


Answer me

by Melody0136



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Detective Viktor, I know 'Eros' is such an overused moniker I'm sorry, I love crime AU's, Interrogation, M/M, Slight Violence, Viktor POV, a tad suggestive, and a lil language, assassin yuuri, rated for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 15:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11649762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melody0136/pseuds/Melody0136
Summary: Detective Viktor Nikiforov finds himself subject to one of the highly elusive assassin Eros' infamous interrogations after an investigation of his mafia division's base goes somewhat... Awry.





	Answer me

Words help me focus.  
They help me put things into perspective as I paint the most detailed picture I can manage with all the possibilities of description they offer.

Sorry if my account waxes too poetic. It's how I tick.

* * *

 

He emerged from nowhere, hidden in the shadows as always. My back was covered and the alley was a dead end, though no one was in sight.  
I don't know how he did it- no one quite knows how he works, really- but I was knocked out in mere seconds and I awoke with my legs and arms bound tight in a stiff steel chair, sat dead in the centre of a room occupied only by lurking darkness and old cobwebs, two keen eyes trained on me, alert in the quiet.

"Are you well rested, detective?" His voice was the only sound present in the utter silence, and as he stepped into the little illumination the single bulb offered, the shadows never seemed to leave him, clinging to his every curve and edge.

A gun sat dull, dead weight in his hand, and he bought it up to the light as though inspecting the butt of it- "These pistols are incredibly effective close range, and the little distance between us would make for a beautiful, clean shot... How I'd love to put a bullet in you, Detective"

"I was expecting you'd say 'baby'," came my futile retort.

He smiled, languid and sly, and his gaze never left mine as he replied, "That too."

He moved swiftly onward, "You have total recall- eidetic memory. It's what makes you so successful an investigator. I'd much rather have you screaming under different circumstances, you know, so I require your complete cooperation for this to go smoothly."

I stuggled to discern his movements in the virtual darkness, but knowing his location behind me as I sat vulnerable to his every whim was no comfort.

"Now if _I_ recall correctly, you suffered a bullet wound right over- _here._ " Pain raced across my lower back, his pistol pressing insistently against the epicentre of the relatively young wound- young in that though the skin had healed, unlike the old scars on my body of which I took no notice, this one I treated gingerly, semi-conscious apprehension kept me from applying the slightest amount more of pressure than was ever necessary.

To say that the gun pressing into the scar was cruel was understatement, yet I knew irrefutably that this was only the precipice of the pain Eros would put me through.

"Oh, I really wish pain didn't do that to your face. _So pretty_ ," he crooned as his fingertips skimmed my cheek. The most disquieting notion was that I knew he meant each syllable- he wasn't the sort to waste his breath- even his taunts held a unique sort of sincerity, each one perfectly selected to cut ever so gently or sharp and brutal to source his victims' breaking points.

He took his time leaning forward at his leisure. Gloved fingers clamped around my chin as he closed the little distance between us. His eyes bore into mine with a quiet intensity.

I didn't jerk away from him when his lips brushed mine- it would have been giving him what he wanted, but he got what he was after all the same. His tongue pushed between my lips, and the intrusion only heightened my repulsion when Eros let out a sordid little moan.  
The gentle nature of the kiss contrasted his abrasive and incendiary character, but that was quickly righted as his teeth pressed slow and sharp into my lower lip.

  
He pulled away, and his tongue reappeared to smear the faint red from his mouth as he chuckled and nudged his foot between my thighs, "Oh?" Affecting surprise, he teased, "I didn't think you swung that way, Detective!"

His mock surprise was met with silence. "In that case," he continued, "little Viktor seems rather confused, don't you think?"  
He was baiting me, so calmly, so thoroughly, awaiting an inevitable outburst, but I couldn't afford to give in.

"Disciplined as you are, Detective Nikiforov, with your gorgeous marble face and those cold blue eyes," he paused, eyes fluttering shut as another quiet, salacious moan escaped him, "I can tell that you're going to be a tough nut to crack." He smiled, "But there's no rush, my love. Here there's only you, the dark, the silence and the information locked so selfishly inside your handsome little head- plenty of time to reflect and ponder upon what you'll tell, and for me to discern just how accurate your "truths" are. Although... you wouldn't lie to me, no? Because that would be very foolish of you- you know that don't you? You know what I do to liars, don't you, Detective."

  
Yes:

Red.

Carved by his titanium knife, cut over and over, deeper and deeper till he was satisfied with the punishment as he tore open skin and muscle to vent out his frustration on the offender's flesh over his vehement distaste for deceit.

  
"We may have the luxury of time, _Viktor_ , but do try not to test my patience- It's a volatile thing."  
The way he sang my name resounded in the dank, dimly lit space, ringing in the silence as the minute echo hounded me relentlessly, in, and out of consciousness.

 

 

It would be a while before Giacometti found me.

 

  
"You know the implications of that old, worn out phrase- 'we can do this the easy way, or the hard way'. Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be, my love."  
"First things first- _Do_ _n't. Lie._ " he proposed, as though it were a simple matter. "It'll only withhold the truth, and you know I'll pry it out of you eventually."

  
"We could skip the easy questions; how you know my name- my _real_ one of course- how you found this location, why you took this case- not the best action to take, really, though you knew that from the start."

He shook his head, dismissing the trivialities, "No, that's much too simple. Of course Carabosa wants a full breakdown of the law's plan to crackdown on our operations, but you can tell me all about that later, _da_?" He closed the remaining distance between us as he sat himself in my lap and levelled our faces to the point that his breath mingled with mine. "Now, what I need from you is to tell me _where he is_."

Before the lie could fall from my tongue, Eros' right hand surged upwards, and that infernal pistol was pressed to my skull for the nth time.

" _Don't you dare_." The whisper of his voice more threatening than the loaded Derringer imprinting its barrel on my forehead. "Don't you _dare_ lie to me, Detctive. You know how stupid that would be, and I don't have the patience for stupidity. I never have and I _never will_. Now, be a good boy and tell me, plain and simple, where he's gone. _Nothing_ escapes you, and you can't possibly pretend that this of all things has suddenly evaded your perfect memory." He spoke quickly, frustration seeping into his harsh, hushed tones. "I'll cut it out of you if I have to."

He'd live up to the promise of course. He wouldn't lie about this. Assuming Carabosa wanted Eros to make an informant of me, he had Eros under orders. Despite that, I knew Eros would fuck those orders to high heaven and shoot my brain out alongside them to reach his own aims first and foremost if his patience did indeed thin so far, simply because-

"You're the type that would kill a man for the one you love, aren't you."

I'd given in.

He knew I'd given in.

The gun was holstered as the lie was abandoned. Eros was well aware that I would no longer be feigning cheap ignorance any time soon. He stood and surveyed me in the little light there was, waiting.

He was giving me a chance.

I couldn't imagine losing my Makkachin, so I couldn't begin to think what so lonely a man would do without his own lifelong companion.

"He's gone," I relented.

  
" _Where_?" He pressed, before I could get the whole sentence out. "Damnit, out with it detective! I want you to be lucid for this- all my tools are still sitting in their places- _don't force my hand_."

I'd have to.

  
"...There was a gang member hunting me down when I broke into the lot. He had me cornered, and as a last resort, I fired at him. My backup gun- it was unsilenced. The shot rang out, and the mutt was spooked- he froze in the middle of the street right before... Right before-"  
-Pain shocked my temple, aching toward my jaw. Eros' fist had me seeing stars- it hung clenched by his side, trembling. Did it quake with anger... Or with frustration?

"He's a smart boy- a good boy. He wouldn't make such mundane mistake." His voice cracked on the last word, his facade followed suit.

  
The polished mask of utmost control, calm composure, playful indifference, split under the crushing weight of grief and the sudden force of denial.

He turned abruptly, and I watched as he flung open a case stocked with metals of varying sharpness and weight, all to serve a similar purpose. "I didn't expect it to have come to this so soon, detective... It seems you're as despicable as the rest."

I could only listen to the faintest susurrations made as he determined which of his tools would begin the routine interrogation and best loosen my tongue.

  
Red was sure to bloom.

Finally he stood, choice made, eyes burning.  
He stepped forward, poised and slow, and the dim bulb highlighted the incessant darkness and a pair of glinting, desperate eyes.

"Now, let's try this again, detective. _Where. Is. Vicchan?_ "

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno how bullet wounds work :/ I'm guessing they'd be pretty deep, depending- when I split the bit between my thumb and index finger on a fuckn tin of tomatoes, it was sore even after the stitches had dissolved and the terrible swelling had stopped. It hurt to press it or stretch it for months afterwards-I was so wary of it, it pissed my mum off for ages- she did the same thing as a child with a knife, and as an unloved stepchild in her Nigerian household in the 70's, it didn't get much medical attention- until much later I realised in the back of my mind that the pain had finally gone, so I'm just going off of that.  
> I still don't know if the slight twinge I feel when I press it is just my imagination, or if after- holy crap- three years (I've just scrolled through most of the cruddy photos I took in 2014/15 and time flies, but drags so tediously, heck- and yes I took photos of my hand healing,, it's grim but I don't I'll be deleting them for a while)- if after three years I wonder if the pain, though very little and hardly significant at all really, will never completely fade.
> 
> Hmmm.
> 
>  
> 
> I wish I could get paid for rambling
> 
>  
> 
> Okey dokey thank you so much for reading and please comment if you can- pretty please- and leave a kudo if you liked it- with a cherry on top! d(>< )


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